The Hangover
by Victoria Squalor
Summary: Stop me if you've heard this one before: Captain Hook, the Mad Hatter and Dr. Frankenstein walk into a strip club in Vegas, and...well, you'll have to read the rest. A Storybrookian take on everyone's favorite cautionary tale. (MadWhaleHook BroTP; Sleeping Hook & Mad Swan)
1. Prologue

**A/N:** Written as an accompaniment to duskendales' amazing graphic on Tumblr. I was just as eager for an exploration of the MadWhaleHook BroTP.  
**disclaimer:** I don't own OUAT or the plot of The Hangover, and neither Old Spice or the Vegas tourism board is paying me for product placement either.

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**The Hangover**

by Victoria Squalor

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**PROLOGUE - THE BIG DAY**

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"Deep breaths, Aurora, deep breaths," Snow coached the princess with the voice of a patient birthing instructor, as she twisted her hair into ringlets and anchored them securely with bobby pins. "It's still _hours_ from now, and you're going to worry yourself sick."

Aurora couldn't help it. It was _her _wedding, she thought, not anyone else's, so of course she was worried. They could afford to be cavalier about it; they weren't the ones facing the prospect of being left alone at the altar. The wedding was that evening, her husband-to-be _and _his two groomsmen were still halfway across the country at his prolonged bachelor party, and now they'd suddenly become impossible to reach. She sat facing the vanity mirror, lower lip faintly trembling, dressed in only a silk chemise and the pale aquamarine stockings that were to be her "something blue", while Snow fussed over her hair. Snow had gleefully taken over the role of mother of the bride, throwing herself wholeheartedly into the preparations; Aurora figured this was because her own daughter had been making no motions whatsoever toward marriage, and Snow probably feared she might not get the chance again.

Said daughter, Emma, was leaning against the wall next to the vanity, cellphone to her ear. "Well, that's Jefferson's voicemail again," she announced after a moment. "Ruby, did you try Whale's?"

Ruby made a face from where she was sitting cross-legged on the bed, applying sparkly lip gloss to Grace, the flower girl. "Yes. Several times. And same thing."

"Is my dad okay?" Grace asked anxiously, her mouth still pooched up into a pout as Ruby capped the gloss and frowned over her shoulder at Emma.

"I'm sure he's fine, hon. We're just trying to make sure they all get on the plane okay." Emma gave Ruby a pointed look in return, who nodded and tugged at Grace's hand. "Come on, let's go pick out your jewelry," she said with a note of forced cheerfulness as she led the little girl out of the room.

Aurora's quivering pout resumed as her spirits took another tumble. She began worrying at her carefully manicured nails as Emma heaved an enormous sigh.

"All right," she said in her best authoritative I-am-the-law voice, "let's just walk back through this. Aurora, the last time you heard from Hook was when he drunk-dialed you, right?"

"Yes." Aurora bit her lip. "Yesterday morning."

"And did he say anything…unusual? I mean, other than typical drunk-guy speak?"

Aurora thought back to the last time she'd heard her fiancé's voice. The phone had rung at six in the morning, when she'd still been debating whether or not to get up, half-sprawled over his side of the bed. "'Rora," he'd slurred from the other end, with an exaggerated roll of the Rs. "'Rrrrrrrrrrora."

"Killian?" she'd asked, faintly puzzled. "What is it? Is everything all right?"

"'Rorrrra..." Killian had drawled, seemingly obsessed with the single consonant of her name. "Shall I bring you home a pirate ship? 'Cause I'm standing on top of a grrrreat big one, and I'm reeeaaaaalllly thinking I might steal it." He hiccupped. "Would you like that, my love?"

Aurora's brow had creased suspiciously. "Killian, _how _much have you had to drink?"

"Drink?" He'd sounded offended at the notion. "Mmmhhh..._me?_ Nothing. _Nothing_. I don't drink anymore...I'm a proper prince consort, not some grog-swilling _pirate_." He'd laughed. "I'm turning over a new leaf, my lady, and it's all because of _yooooou_."

Killian, being in fact an actual pirate of some repute despite his claim to the contrary, was quite practiced at holding his liquor, and though Aurora had not often personally witnessed him testing his own endurance against rum, she had _never _heard him anywhere near this incoherent. Usually she was the one dissolving into shrieks and giggles after a few rounds at the bar while he huffed and carried her home on his back afterward. "And that would be why you're planning to steal a ship," she'd replied dryly, willing to humor him for the moment. "In the middle of a desert."

"You don't believe me," he'd pouted. "Now I _have_ to steal it. The things I do for love…" There was some sort of commotion in the background, a few barely audible yells and high-pitched noises she couldn't readily identify. "Get your own ship, this one's mine!" Killian had shouted then, voice having drifted away from the mouthpiece. "_I'll scrape out your bloody eyes!"_

_"Killian, please!" _Aurora was starting to become genuinely frightened. "_Where are Jefferson and Whale?"_

"Those treasonous _dogs_—I don't—" and then there had been a soft scuffling noise, before the call had cut off completely. She'd sat there staring at the phone in shock.

Emma was quite clearly fighting back laughter as the princess recounted this conversation; Aurora scowled at her. "Uh, and after that?" Emma continued, wiping at the corner of one eye. "You said you talked to Jefferson yesterday? What did he say?"

"That they were…fine, that Killian was just sleeping it off, and that once he woke up, they were going to brunch and spending the rest of the day at the pool." Aurora fiddled with her engagement ring, an enormous lavender pearl set in a cluster of diamonds. "He couldn't explain what Killian had been yelling about, though, and then he got off the phone in a hurry."

Emma and Snow exchanged a long look. "The pirate ship had to have been the one in front of the Treasure Island," Emma said, sniggering but cutting herself off as Aurora glared daggers at her. "I'm—I'm sorry, Aurora, but I can _so _picture him climbing that thing, drunk off his—"

"_Emma,_" Snow said in a warning voice, putting a hand on Aurora's shoulder.

"Yes, Mom." Emma capitulated immediately, ducking her head before diving back into sheriff mode. "Okay. Back to the timeline. If Hook called you at six, it was three A.M. his time. You didn't hear from Jefferson until six hours later. Now it's been almost _nineteen _hours since we heard from _anybody_, and everyone's phone is going straight to voicemail. What time is their flight supposed to leave?"

"It _was _supposed to have left last night, at midnight," Aurora said sullenly. "If they didn't make it—"

"—There's no way they would make it in time," Mulan interjected from the doorway, strolling into the room with her brocade robes draped over one arm. "They had layovers between Vegas and Boston, and then driving to Storybrooke on top of that. Unless they chartered a private plane. And even then—" She stopped herself when she noticed Aurora beginning to hyperventilate.

"Look, maybe no news is _good _news," Snow broke in desperately, stroking Aurora's hair in a vain attempt to calm her. "The reason nobody's answering their phones is because they're shut off, on the plane."

At that moment, Emma's phone rang, causing her to drop it and Aurora to shriek. "W-w-_wait!_" Emma blundered, scrambling on the carpet to retrieve it. "It—it's Jefferson."

Aurora was turning blue. "_Breathe,"_ Snow hissed, grasping her chin.

"Jefferson, where the _hell _are you? Do you even realize how—" Emma took one look at Aurora's strangled expression and hit the speakerphone button. "—how worried we've all been? _Where_ are you guys now?"

A pause, then a crackly static sigh. "Emma, we, uh…kind of fucked things up. Big time."

The stony four-way gaze between the women in the room shifted to the smartphone in Emma's hand. "And, ah…how is that, Jefferson?" Emma asked cautiously, keeping one eye on Aurora.

"We…uh…we lost Hook."

The silence lasted only a few seconds. Aurora launched herself off the vanity stool with such force that she nearly knocked Snow to the ground, and so fast that Emma didn't have time to blink before the phone was snatched out of her hand. "_What do you mean, you LOST HIM?" _the princess shrieked, bright spots of red blazing on her cheeks, pinned curls now askew. "_Did you lose him in a CROWD? HOW CAN YOU POSSIBLY LOSE A MAN WITH A HOOK FOR A HAND?"_

Jefferson's voice sounded as if it were curling into a tiny ball. "Aurora, I swear that w—"

"No, _I swear _that if you do not produce my husband _and_ drag him to the altar by five o' clock tonight, _Storybrooke time, _I am going to send out Mulan with the _biggest available sword in town_ to hack off your head, _for good this time." _Aurora was positively vibrating as she screamed into the phone. "I don't _care HOW _many violations of time and space you have to commit. If there was magic enough to let you go on this _ill-conceived whoring excursion _with your memories still intact, then there's magic enough for you to find Killian and _get him back here in time. Do you understand me?"_

Silence. Then a tiny "Yes."

Her piece spoken, Aurora handed the phone back to Emma, crossed over to the bed, flopped down face-first and began to sob.

Mulan sighed and laid her robes on the bed. "I'm going to go get her a bottle of wine."

"Make it fortified," Snow said, looking worriedly at the princess, her blue-clad legs dangling limply off the edge of the bed. "And make it two."

"And you better get cracking, hat man," Emma said tersely into the phone. "I don't relish having to pick up the pieces after she's done with you."

Jefferson's sigh was the last word.


	2. Chapter 1

**THREE DAYS EARLIER**

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"Aurora? Sweetheart?" Killian Jones, better known by his more colorful moniker Captain Hook, called to his bride-to-be in the bathroom, without bothering to look up from tossing articles into his leather carryon bag, propped open on the bed. "Bring me that can of Swagger from the cabinet, will you?"

He chucked a few more undershirts and pairs of trouser socks in, one of them snagging on the end of his hook. "Aurora!" he called again, hissing a curse at the socks as he shook it off.

Something hit him with a _clunk_ squarely in the back of the head, and an aluminum can rattled to the floor. Killian glanced over his shoulder at the doorway to the bathroom.

"Sweetheart, you're not still mad about this trip, are you?" he asked in a syrupy voice.

He got an exaggerated huff in response.

"Why are you angry at _me?_" he protested, trying to sound innocent, which he already knew was pointless. "I already told you, this was all Victor's idea."

"You didn't have to _agree _to it." Aurora finally emerged from the bathroom, wearing an orchid satin and lace slipdress that made him do a double take—he definitely hadn't seen_ that_ before, and he figured she'd broken it out now on purpose, to try and distract him from getting packed. _Well played, love. _It wasn't easy to tear his eyes away from the gentle swells of her breasts under that shimmering fabric, but he wasn't about to let her win this one just yet.

"Maybe not, but surely you don't expect the legendary Captain Hook to sail off into the marital doldr—er, _bliss_ without one last big bang?" Killian asked breezily as he retrieved the Swagger and tossed it into the bag.

"Bang," Aurora echoed with a derisive snort. "I suppose that's one way to put it."

"Besides, I'm looking forward to it. I haven't seen any of the world outside Storybrooke since I sailed in, and Las Vegas sounds like my sort of place, lack of water aside."

Aurora settled herself on the edge of the bed next to his bag, crossing her legs just so, which he struggled to ignore. "I'm less bothered by the rum-soaked depravity as I am by the fact that your flight isn't supposed to get back until eleven in the morning on the day of the wedding."

Killian put on a look of mock offense as he pulled a black suit jacket out of the closet. "And I believe _somebody_ told me that I would be 'utterly useless' in the two days leading up to the wedding as it were, while they were doing important things like draping Jefferson's entire house in yards of tulle." He zippered the bag shut. "And he'd hardly be able to offer us his house and grounds for the wedding if he wasn't going to be away from it. You have to admit, it was quite generous of him."

Aurora sniffed, not wanting to concede to him either. "It's just cutting it close, that's all."

"So I'll get back right in time and stroll up the aisle completely relaxed." He turned to the mirror and started brushing his sleeves.

"After you've been flying all night and driving all day?"

"I'll get to sleep. Jefferson's driving, not me." He couldn't quite do it legally yet anyway. Docking a pirate ship at the pier was one thing, but his attempts at driving invariably ended up with him speeding, failing to brake in time and subsequently plowing into somebody's mailbox or spinning lawn ornament—usually followed by a citation from a gleeful Sheriff Swan.

"That's the other thing that's bothering me." Aurora chewed on her bottom lip, looking more worried now than annoyed. "What if his magic plan doesn't work?"

Although the Dark Curse had technically been broken, the effects still lingered around the town's borders to a certain degree. Stepping over the town line no longer caused instant amnesia, but extended trips into the "real world" had been proven to cause what were essentially fugue states, as several ill-fated journeys by various townsfolk had demonstrated. Ruby Lucas had gone to New York City for a weeklong trip, and when she'd failed to return, her grandmother, Emma and August Booth had formed a search party and driven to the city. They'd found her giving tours of the Museum of Modern Art, wearing a platinum wig and calling herself Francesca. They'd had to physically wrangle her into the car when she started screaming and accusing them of being enemy agents. It had taken a liberal dosage of hard-sought fairy dust to restore her to her normal.

Jefferson, however, claimed to have procured something or other that would get them to Las Vegas and back for the weekend without any such ill effects. Killian hadn't really bothered himself with the particulars. Jefferson was his sort of madman, and if he was willing to use it on himself when failure meant potentially losing all memories of his daughter, that was good enough for Killian.

Aurora was suspicious, though, and he knew she was afraid the "magic plan" entailed the meddling of a certain pawn-shop owner/vile bastard. _Well, if she had just let me KILL HIM properly instead of scheming with that Belle girl behind my back and forcing us into a bloody armistice, then she wouldn't have to worry_, he thought irritably.

He didn't say any of this, though, because Jefferson would be picking him up soon and he much preferred the idea of spending his last unmarried minutes with Aurora fucking instead of fighting. "Nothing is going to go wrong," he insisted, leaning over to cup her chin in his hand. "And I'll bring you back something pretty. Hm?" He nipped tenderly at her jawline, then at her lower lip, tugging it into his mouth, which always melted her like butter, this time being no exception. She moaned softly as he slipped his arms underneath her supple bottom and lifted her, laying her back on the bed, and set to work sliding off the satin dress, despite the fact that he had just finished getting dressed himself.

"Mmm, the next time we do this, you'll be Mrs. Jones," he murmured after he'd slid his hook underneath the elastic of her panties and tugged them all the way off. She chortled as he kissed the base of her throat.

Aurora locked her legs around his waist and smirked up at him. "That's 'Your Highness Mrs. Jones,' peasant."

* * *

Jefferson sat slumped in the driver's seat of his Camaro convertible, which he'd parked in the fire zone outside Hook and Aurora's apartment building. When he'd called his friend to announce he was outside, the pirate had gasped "Five—no, ten—no, _fifteen _minutes," while Aurora moaned audibly in the background. He supposed it was unfair to Aurora, but he privately found himself hoping that Hook shot first so they could get the show on the road already.

He'd wondered how he'd gotten roped into doing all the driving—obviously Hook was useless at it, but there wasn't any reason Whale couldn't at least take them to the Boston airport, other than having announced his preference to hang out in the backseat and violate Maine's open container laws instead. While Jefferson had rather benignly suggested the idea of a bachelor party in the first place, figuring they might just drive into the city and hit a strip club or two, taking it to Vegas had been entirely the doctor's brainchild, which, in light of the "Francesca incident," as it was now called (much to Ruby's perpetual chagrin), had faced additional complications.

It hadn't presented much of a challenge to Jefferson, though; he'd always been good at procuring things, and he'd solved the solution of how to safeguard their memories for a negligible price. He just hoped they didn't pester him about _how _he'd acquired that solution.

He didn't like leaving Grace behind, history being what it was, but she was all wrapped up in the excitement of the wedding and getting to be flower girl, especially since the ceremony was taking place at her house. He'd dropped her off at Granny's for the night, but tomorrow morning Aurora and her flock of hens were descending on his house for the next two days to finish preparing it, and he knew Grace would be fussed over endlessly by all the women. Even by—

"Hey there."

Jefferson glanced to his left to see Emma Swan pulled up beside him, leaning over the passenger's side of her Beetle. "You know, if I were on duty, I'd make you park that somewhere else."

"I'll only be a few minutes, Sheriff," Jefferson drawled. "I'm just waiting for Hook to, er, finish saying _goodbye _to his fiancée." _Although as he's saying goodbye with his penis, I just can't be sure how long it'll take. _He checked the time. Twelve minutes, twenty-six seconds.

Emma regarded this with wry amusement. "Why do I have the feeling that we're going to end up seeing the aftermath of this bachelor party on the national news?"

"I don't know why you assume the three of us in Vegas is a pending national disaster." She was right, of course, but he wouldn't admit it.

"Oh, admit it. It's the mother of all bad ideas. So it was probably Whale's."

"Wow. Can I take that as an endorsement of my slightly better judgment?"

"_Whooaaaa_, let's not go nuts here," Emma said sarcastically. "Don't think I've forgotten my trip down the rabbit hole so easily."

_Of course she hasn't. _"Don't let Grace stay up too late. Or watch anything scary on TV."

"Can I let her eat frosting out of the can?"

"Just don't corrupt my child, okay?"

"You're one to talk." Emma snorted. "Have fun, Jefferson… just try not to get the Nevada SWAT team involved." And she drove off, just as Hook sauntered out of the building, his clothes rumpled and hair in disarray, with an infuriatingly self-satisfied look on his face. _Smug asshole. Though I suppose it's why I like him. _He checked the time again. Fourteen minutes, fifty-eight seconds.

"Well, ready to go?" he drawled, as if he'd been the one waiting on Jefferson.

"I was ready before you started dicking around."

Hook ignored that as he slid into the passenger's side seat, tossing his bag in the back. "What did the Sheriff want to give you? Good-bye kiss?"

"A warning." Jefferson pulled away from the curb and steered toward Whale's house.

"That's all? You mean you and she aren't…"

"Uh…no."

"Why not? It seems natural. She's attractive. I'd have pulled into that port at one time, had she not been so intent on trying to screw me in other ways." Hook said this with the easy confidence of a practiced ladykiller, which he was, in both the figurative and literal sense. "You've got an easier time of it. Your children are friends, you can...arrange playdates or whatever it is parents do." He waved dismissively with his good hand, and Jefferson found himself idly wondering how soon Aurora planned on getting pregnant, because he had a hard time reconciling Killian Jones with fatherhood. _He'll probably dangle the kid off the end of his hook and tote it around like a shopping bag. Assuming he doesn't tether it to a tree in the yard and let it fend for itself._ "Just send them to the park and nip off to the bedroom."

"Well, aside from the fact that she's been riding August's bike a lot lately" (_and possibly something else of his, _he thought to himself) "we never really moved past our awkward first meeting." He blamed the Francesca incident for her sudden closeness with Booth. Apparently hog-tying Ruby while she screamed about the KGB had been a real bonding experience for them.

"First meetings are usually awkward," Hook said, sounding unconvinced. "When I first met Aurora, I was pretending to be dead. Then a blacksmith. Then sincere."

"Well, Emma hit me with her car. Then she took me home, and I invited her in for tea…"

"That's nothing." Hook shrugged.

"…which was drugged…and then I bound and gagged her…"

"Well, I'm…sure you had valid reasons at the time."

"…_and_ her mother…pointed a gun at her…forced her into hatmaking." Jefferson rattled off the strikes against him as if he were mentally compiling a grocery list.

Hook gave him a long look, then exhaled. "Jefferson, I'm about to marry the woman whose heart I ripped out. 'Course, I did give it back, but the trust issue was a rather large stumbling block for some time. Did she hate me after the fact? Of course. Did she express a fervent longing for my slow and torturous death? Three or four times, by my count. _But_, after much fighting and doubting and angry sex—the best kind, I might add—we were eventually able to move past that, and heal." He delivered this pseudo-psychiatry as casually as if he were discussing his and Aurora's tussles over stealing the covers. "If _we_ can overcome THAT hurdle, you can move forward with Emma."

Jefferson cocked an eyebrow at him as he made the turn onto Whale's street. "What's with the sudden desire to play Cupid?" It was wholly unlike Hook to give a shit about anybody's happiness but his own.

Hook scoffed at this. "I'm just trying to get you a roll in the hay. I can tell a man with a long dry spell as surely as I can predict the tide. And, well, to be honest, it's made you a bit of a pill. It's getting annoying."

_So much for his altruism. _"Well, that's why we're going to Vegas, isn't it?" Jefferson said cynically, putting the car in park.

Hook gave a nod toward the house. "Ask him."

Jefferson had no sooner turned his head than spotted the blur that was Whale beelining for the car, hurling his bag into the backseat and following it with a leap over the car door. He had his dark-tinted aviators on and was clearly trying to go for the "maverick" look, but more closely resembled an excited puppy.

"Let's _go," _he said, sounding pumped. "Christ, I'm finally getting laid this weekend."

"Whoa, hold up." Jefferson stopped him. "Plane tickets? Reservations?"

Whale held up a sheaf of papers. "All here. Your lack of faith in me is really disheartening sometimes, you know?"

"If you're going to start with the heart jokes again…" Hook unscrewed the cap on his flask with his teeth. "…then I need to be drunk first."


End file.
